god, I have my father's eyes

The day had descended onto night, and the woodland was alight with the subtle bioluminescence of mushrooms. The sounds of the forest had quieted to give way to nocturnal lullabies - that of the musical crickets that chirped behind moss-padded foliage, and the ever-present hum of snoring squirrels and other slumbering fauna. It was a painting dulled with earthen tones - highlighted by the glow that ignited the roguish passageways, lighting the way for strange wanderers and insomniacs alike.

Ianthe had stopped at the base of a vine-coated trunk, her left shoulder lightly pressed against the rough bark. As she allowed her gaze to roll quietly over her immediate surroundings, she wondered if the moon-tinted hue of her eyes appeared ghastly against the dark, suddenly self-conscious of her own appearance. As if there was anyone nearby to appraise her. Perhaps it was habit to constantly feel the weight of others' opinions, and redirect her movements to reflect something more representative of perfection. Almost instantaneously, the girl would shuffle her paws, aligning her posture and sucking in a soft inhale. The soft hint of evergreen filtered her senses while she took a moment to shake out her coat, freeing her of any clinging debris she may have collected on the walk here.

She had to admit: this place was magical at night. Rather lackluster during the day, and easily overlooked by those just taking a route to get to the other-side - but quite a demonstration for any who happened to catch themselves spending an overnight. Flattening her ears against her crown, the girl would proceed forward, content with strolling until the sunrise. At least this way, she was able to focus her thoughts elsewhere.

---

for @Asheden

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He awoke with a startle. Gasping, retching. Crimson eyes flew wide and wild, his icy exterior cracked and desperation leaking through. To any onlooker, it were as if he awoke from a strange dream; but to Asheden, it were as if his entire world was swept from underneath his paws, thrusting him into a ruthless unknown. And when he'd try to reach into the recesses of his memories for any inclination as to why he was here, there was nothing but an excruciating darkness, one that made his head pound and his ears ring. He rolled onto his belly, desperate caterwauling accompanying his gasps for breath, before finally heaving, coughing; blood splattered across the ground, the dim glow of mushrooms subdued by his plight.

And then it was over. The wave of nausea passed, the incessant throbbing in his head stopped. It was quiet, almost...peaceful. Empty.

Asheden felt undeniably empty.

Slowly he rose to his paws. The moonlight struggled to breach the thick canopy of trees above, the forest instead illuminated by a soft bioluminescent light emerging from its smallest, dampest crevices. His appearance was disheveled, fur kinked and out of place, a dribble of blood at the tip of his chin, his eyes wide and bleary and bloodshot. If he'd not been so disoriented, he would have seen @Ianthe sooner, if his nose were not so overwhelmed by the scent of his own blood, he might have smelled her; it was not until they'd nearly bumped into each other that he registered she were another wolf. “Mmph!” he seethed, stumbling. His half-lidded gaze looked her over, opening his mouth to say something, anything, but he could only cough instead.

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"Mmph!" was the sound that broke her away from all other resonance.

It was dim, and the tree-tops provided little illumination. Thus, it was not a surprise that she would be caught off-guard - this time, by a man, his body stumbling haphazardly towards her with no intent to regain footing. The first moment she had noticed his appearance was after she herself had recoiled back, her eyes widened and senses thrown into vigilance upon the threat of impact. Slim legs swept over the woodland earth and propelled her into a stance resembling a startled fawn. Had she not been so caught up in her daydreams, she might have been more prepared for the sudden disturbance. Quietly, she swore, something soft and in her mother tongue.

The man was large - muscled, tall and clearly capable of bowling her over should he trip once more - so Ianthe took a few paces back, to give him space and to allow her time to run should he be deranged. The smaller female stared mind-numbingly at his expression, and her eyes unavoidably stuck to the splatter of crimson across his chin.

A small prey animal, perhaps? Berry juice? Another girl? Her face turned a pale sheet of concern, not only for him but for the source of the red that adorned his mouth. Until he coughed - and more red splattered on the ground before them.

Blood. His blood. She let loose a tiny sigh, relieved - before instincts pushed her to react. They were both at a standstill now - him, shivering and battered - her, shocked and unable to find the correct manner to proceed. For a brief moment, she recalled the days her sisters would come home wounded, and their mother would press herbs and warm touch to the afflicted areas to calm the irritation and pain. Had she known this man more than a few moments, she might have reached out to swipe away the blood with a tongue, but she was wary of the possibility of him biting such a thing off. Wary of a lot of things, really, but she had to do something.

"You - uh - have a little -" Ianthe began hesitantly, blinking slowly as she motioned to his chin with her nose. A quick pause. Shaking her head softly, she began a different approach.

"Do you want my help?" Better to ask than to assume.

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The memories flooded back in glimpses. Disembodied voices, shadowy silhouettes framed by a light bright enough to drown out their surroundings. Fleeting reveries that begged his attention, that he would have been desperate to chase had he not been so shocked in place. The sound of steel scratching steel, screaming, gasping. A pain in his chest—another cough. Ashden's furious gaze rose to meet @Ianthe as she stood across from him, all things lithe and womanish and surprised by his sudden intrusion. And if he were a better man, he might have sought her good graces through an apology, and been delighted to have crossed paths with such a pretty she-wolf.

But Ianthe was right to hesitate. He would indeed have relieved her of her tongue had she ventured any closer.

You - uh - have a little -

“A little what?” he demanded, perhaps harsher than he may usually, but between his frayed state and lack of awareness, Asheden was swift to forget any sort of manners. It was only when the edge of his lip caught a few drops of blood that clung to his jaws that he realized what she may have been referring to. In the frenzy of his awakening, he hadn't even noticed. Do you want my help? she implores him, and Asheden goes silent for a moment. He'd as much reason not to trust her as she had not to trust him. It felt as if it were a gamble, as if he'd been in some similar situation before and had come out on the losing end. But now, with nothing but fractured memories and a pain creeping worse than death, he figured he'd nothing else to lose—and everything to gain.

“Yes,” he resigned, allowing the unnerved fur at his nape to settle. His eyes would not leave her, taking in every lean curve and tendril of dark fur. His disposition, though calmed compared to its earlier state, still continued to be stressed and angered; even he would not blame Ianthe if she chose not to approach.

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Her deliberation was quiet, careful. Ianthe could only see the man before her as what he came: a bloodied, stumbling mess with undoubtedly some form of head trauma to boot. Pale eyes swept over his face, his neck, seeking some kind of wound that would explain the incessant bouts of crimson filtering through his nose and teeth. Although it was uncomfortable to recall her past, the girl clenched her jaw and fought through the creeping feeling of dread. She had to venture back to when she would watch her mother create her salves - pastes of green and autumnal-tinted herbs, bound together by water and sometimes saliva if water was not an option. Creations that might help soothe the ache brought on my external injuries - solutions to internal disruptors would be more difficult to find.

His cutting voice was like a blade to the air between them, slicing through with a quick fit of anger and frustration. She stilled, simply watching him with a softened expression than that she wore only a few moments ago. When she had been hesitant, cautious. Afraid, even, if only for a second. But at the acceptance of her offer, the latter simply faded into something she knew well - concern. It might have flooded her eyes, had she not averted them to start searching the immediate area for something that would help him after a subtle, jerk of a nod.

Lavender. Rosemary. Ianthe conjured a mental image of the plants she was looking for, her head swimming with doubt that she'd be able to find such herbs on a whim. At the very least, she could get him to sit, get him to rest. She was trained for this - motherhood had served her many innate gifts - and it was natural for her to default to taking care of others. It was a distraction from her mind, her own pain, the tendency to drift away for periods of time. While she had slipped quite a few feet away to shuffle her nose through the underbrush, Ianthe turned back the way she came, stopping a mere feet or two from his front so that she was in a clear line of vision to the foreign man. Clearing her throat, she caught his eye.

"You should sit. Lay down, even. Does your head hurt?" She'd begin gently, hoping her line of questioning and half-demands would not provoke him further. He had relented to her assistance, after all. The woman's ear would flick forward, nose twitching as she finally got a chance to smell him.

Blood.
That was all she could gather.

"The herbs I would need - they would help with any pain, soreness, dizziness even - but I don't know if I could find them in this dark. I can--" Ianthe paused, unsure of how to continue. For once in her life, she was nervous. ".... I can stay near, help clean what blood I can. But you shouldn't press on in this state. It's not safe."

For all she knew, she wasn't safe alone with him. But the night would make scavenging for her ingredients agonizing.

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